Things Aren't Always as they Seem
by OTS
Summary: Sleepy Hollow and PotC Crossover fic, full summary inside. Please read and review! Rated T to be safe.
1. A Late Night Adventure

**Summary**: The most innovative detector in the 19th century meets the best pirate in the Caribbean. As the story unfolds, sparks fly between Ichabod Crane and Jack Sparrow, but when a sudden murder occurs, they find that they have to work together to solve the mystery. The thoughtful constable and the rogue pirate suddenly find themselves right in the middle of a dangerous situation that may very well be the death of them…

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**Chapter 1: A late Night Adventure**

**New York, New York. 1800**

"Crane!" The annoyingly taunting voice echoed off the walls of the surrounding buildings, making a man that looked to be in his early twenties jump. The man had dark brown hair, and a slight build, which was unusual for a New York constable. Most assumed that all members of the police force had to be thuggish, muscular brutes. What was most striking about the man, though, were his dark, intelligent eyes, that at the moment seemed both wary, and uncertain. His normally determined stride lacked its usual luster, and his shoulders were slumped slightly in defeat. The man also carried with him his ledger, which had served no purpose in his recent "battle" with the Burgomaster. "Ichabod Crane!" The voice called out again, this time more insistent. Constable Ichabod Crane closed his eyes in irritation as he recognized the voice to be Constable James Green's. Green had even less respect for Ichabod than the rest of his fellow constables, which was certainly saying something. Ichabod, against his better judgment, turned around. Sure enough, he saw Green walking at a brisk pace in order to catch up to him. Ichabod continued walking—hoping that Green was not up to the chase—but his silent pleas apparently went unnoticed. "What a show you put up back there Crane!" Green said, laughing raucously once he had caught up. Ichabod gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead, determinedly not looking back at the man who was following him.

"I'm really not in the mood for your antics tonight, Green," he said resignedly.

"You're never in the mood for anything, Crane. It's a wonder that someone married you!" Ichabod stiffened, his face reddening, and stopped walking. "All the other constables wondered," Green continued, completely unaware of the fact that the young constable's hands were clenched angrily. "We even thought that you had forced the poor young lady into the marriage, but good ol' Witherspoon reminded us that you couldn't even make that kid on the Brook Investigation let you into their house to do your 'deducing!'" The memory brought another chuckle from Green. "So Constable Shank just decided that the lady must have been blind, because no one in their right mind would want to marry a bookish constable with absolutely no money to support his—" WHAM! Ichabod's fist came flying out of nowhere and struck Constable Green on the chin. Green rocked on his heels and took a step back, rubbing his jaw, which was already beginning to turn red. There was a moment of stunned silence, then:

"Wow, Crane…I didn't know you had it in you!" Green laughed, eyes wide. But Ichabod, it seemed, was as equally surprised as the older constable, though his dark eyes still blazed angrily. Green, still chuckling, punched Ichabod in a friendly manner on his shoulder. The young constable winced. "Ah Crane, you take life so seriously. Sometimes you just need to lighten up!" And with that said, Constable Green left as abruptly as he came. Ichabod let out a shaky sigh, gripped his ledger in his hands harder, and continued to walk back home, his mind wandering back to past events.

"_Constable Crane, that is by far the most outlandish tale that has ever had the misfortune to exit your mouth!" _Upon his return from Sleepy Hollow, he had marched straight up to the Municipal Watch House, and presented his case confidently to the Burgomaster. He had not gotten so far as five minutes into his report, when the High Constable had interrupted him, pointing out that the likelihood of a single woman committing over fifteen murders was impossible: which was when Ichabod had decided to bring up the Headless Horseman. They had argued back and forth for countless minutes before the Burgomaster, for it was late at night, had announced that the remaining points of Ichabod's report would be given in three days time. So, three days later, Ichabod found himself in the same position. _"You expect us to believe that Lady Van Tassel enlisted the aid of a _dead_ Hessian Mercenary to accomplish these gruesome tasks?!" _ In the end, Ichabod's investigation of Sleepy Hollow had been dismissed, and labeled as a "failure." The Burgomaster had then sent him home, and stated that he did not want this matter to be brought up again. But of course, almost every constable that attended had felt the need to bring it up as he exited the building—all except Green, who had waited until they were alone those few minutes ago.

"Ichabod!" The cry startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up just in time to see a flurry of golden brown hair; then he found himself in the arms of the former Katrina Van Tassel. He blushed furiously, then noticed that something was wrong: Katrina was crying.

"Oh Ichabod, thank God you're home! I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to do anything!" Tears were now flowing freely down her face.

"W-what happened?" Ichabod stammered, confusion crossing his handsome features. Katrina buried her face in his shoulder, and he held her awkwardly.

"It's Young Masbath," she sobbed, "I sent him out to find you. I was worried for you, Ichabod, it was getting so late. It's been hours now and he hasn't returned." Ichabod's eyes narrowed, and he gripped her arms suddenly.

"Katrina, you must tell me where you sent him! The streets of New York are dangerous this time at night, especially for a boy his age." Unbidden memories were flashing in his mind. _A young teenager running through the darkened New York alleyways, a group of men chasing him. A man hovering over a dead woman, a bloody knife clutched in his hand, as a frightened child crouched behind a building. _Ichabod shook his head to clear away his thoughts. He couldn't think about that—not now.

"I told him go to the Municipal Watch House that you report to. That's all I asked him to check, and I reminded him that if he couldn't find you, he needed to come straight home."

"And you said he's been gone for a few hours?"  
"Yes," she confirmed, trying to compose herself. Ichabod mulled this over in his head, then made his decision.

"I'm going to look for him." Katrina's eyes widened.

"Then I shall go with you."

"No Katrina! I need you to stay here, it's too dangerous." Katrina opened her mouth to comment, but he cut her off. "Please, don't argue," he said softly but firmly. She nodded, and whispered;

"Be careful." Ichabod gave her a brief smile, then rushed into their new house, (Katrina had insisted on allowing her to buy them a new home, for he was rather embarrassed to show her his small flat) and hurried up the stairs, changing into more suitable clothes for the occasion. He barely even noticed that the clothes he donned were the same that he wore to Sleepy Hollow—that is, until a small blue book fell out of his inside pocket. He glanced at the title:

_A Compendium of Spells, Charms, and Devices to the Spirit World_. The book still had the late Lady Van Tassel's bullet lodged in its center. The gift had saved his life before, he mused to himself as he tucked it back inside his pocket. He only hoped he wouldn't need its protection again. Within seconds he was dressed, and hurried down the stairs where he found Katrina waiting for him. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then proceeded to give him a fierce hug, which, despite the situation, made him blush once more. "Find him, then come straight home. I do not have a good feeling about all of this, Ichabod, so please be careful," she said quietly, brushing the stray hair out of his eyes.

"I will," he promised. Ichabod gave her another one of his rare smiles, then walked quickly out of the front door. _To have someone care for him again; care where he went everyday, care whether or not he lived or died…_it was almost overwhelming.

--

Ichabod spent the next half hour striding up and down dark alleyways, and searching around the Watch House, fully attentive. But there was no one out tonight, not a single person. He paused to rest beneath a badly weathered street sign, leaning against it. Ichabod stared at the ground hopelessly. He would never give up searching for his young companion: he cared for him too much. But it wasn't the prospect of what he wouldn't find that scared him—it was what he might find. A sudden voice broke him out of his dismal reverie. He stood up straight, listening intently. He couldn't quite understand what the voice was saying, due to the apparent distance between them, but whoever was out this late at night probably had a good reason for doing so. Ichabod walked quietly in the direction of the voice, and by the sound of things, it seemed as though the person was hidden in one of the darkest alleyways New York had to offer. _Just my luck, _he thought dismally. Once he was able to get close enough to discern some of what the person was saying, he put his back to the wall of a building, and stood listening.

"…Look, it's not that hard, kid, just hand it over, and we can all go home safe."

"How do I know you won't shoot me as soon as I hand it over? I'm not an ignorant little kid, you know!" Ichabod's eyes widened, and he felt his heartbeat quicken as he recognized the kid's voice. _It was young Masbath_! He inched around the corner, and to his dismay, he saw a frighteningly large man standing in front of Masbath, holding a pistol loosely at his side. The man was focused completely on young Masbath, but all the same, Ichabod took extreme caution in stepping around the corner. The man continued talking.

"Kid, if you weren't ignorant then you would've handed that book over by now." Ichabod inched closer, as silently as he could manage. Masbath looked up, and their eyes met, but Ichabod gave a slight shake of his head, and reached slowly for his pistol. Then, quite suddenly, the moon appeared from behind the clouds, illuminating the alleyway, and casting Ichabod's shadow right in front of the large man.

"What the…" he muttered, then turned around and saw Ichabod standing a few feet away. Ichabod hurriedly reached for his pistol, but the man reacted faster, pulling out a second gun from his jacket, and pointing it directly at Ichabod's heart. The constable froze, and noticed that the man's first pistol was likewise pointed at young Masbath. "Ah, young Constable Crane, so nice of you to join us!" The man laughed. "As you can see, though, we are rather busy at the moment, so it might be best that you leave…" Ichabod stared at him angrily.

"Who _are_ you?" The man sighed and cocked both pistols.

"Drew," he said dismissively, "but you wouldn't know me. The only reason I know you is from listening to…ah, talk, you could say." Drew turned back to Masbath. "So kid, have you decided to cooperate yet?" Young Masbath glared at the man defiantly, which made him sigh again. "I suppose I could always glean the information from another source," he said, with mock exasperation, "which means that you no longer serve any purpose to me." And before Ichabod had any time to react, the man pulled the trigger of his pistol and shot Masbath directly in the heart.

"No!" Ichabod shouted. But even as he started to run towards the boy, young Masbath's lifeless body had already hit the ground, his crimson blood starting to stain the cobblestone streets. In his anger, the young constable tackled the man, forgetting that he was at a disadvantage, being both shorter and less muscular. Ichabod had never been in a real fist fight before, but the circumstances seemed to give him more strength than he knew he possessed. He punched Drew in the face, which sent the man reeling back. The constable drew his fist back and swung again, but Drew ducked, and dealt a vicious blow to Ichabod's ribs with his boot. Ichabod heard something crack, and gasped for breath. The kick sent him careening into the building's wall, and he slammed into the hard bricks. The pain, though intense, cleared his mind, and reminded him to act logically. The young constable grabbed his pistol off of his belt, and waited until the man was close enough. His arm shook slightly as he aimed, but it did not prevent him from missing his target—at least, not exactly. The bullet shot from the gun with a loud _crack,_ and embedded itself in the man's arm. Drew screamed in pain, and fell to the ground, his arm bleeding profusely. Ichabod grimaced, and clutched his side, shoving the smoking pistol back into his belt. He walked over to young Masbath, and kneeled down. He remembered his words to the boy when shortly after they arrived in New York, having seen more than enough murders in Sleepy Hollow. _"Don't worry young Masbath," _he had said confidently, _"you will be staying with us. We have to be like a—a family now, and look after each other. Katrina and I won't let anything happen to you."_ Ichabod's eyes watered, and his hands clenched. He had failed his young friend, failed Katrina….failed himself. The young constable was barely aware of anything around him, and did not hear Drew come up behind him until it was too late. The butt of Drew's pistol smashed into the back of Ichabod's head, and his vision started to fade. The last thing he remembered was hitting the ground hard, and Drew's hand reaching down to pick up his fallen pistol…

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**A/N:** Like I mentioned before, I'm currently sorting through my older chapters, and correcting some of the sentences and grammar. I don't think that any of you will be able to tell the difference, but…I will. :) For those of you who have just started reading this story, **feel free to review!!** Thanks!


	2. Captain Jack Sparrow

**Chapter 2: Jack Sparrow**

Captain Jack Sparrow stood at the helm of his ship, the _Black Pearl_, lost in thought. He was staring out at the Caribbean Sea, watching the endless emerald waves lazily stroke the hull of the _Pearl_. Suddenly, he squinted, and spotted the distant lights that marked the port of Tortuga. This was the third time in the current month that Jack and his crew were heading back to the drunkard port—not that he was complaining. When it came to rum and women, Jack had little willpower to resist the niceties.

"Cap'n?"

"Yes, Mister Gibbs?" Jack answered, without turning around.

"A storm is brewin' on the horizon, Jack. I suggest that we make all haste to Tortuga before she hits." The Captain glanced lazily up at the sky. Sure enough, large black clouds towered in the heavens, growing steadily larger.

"Not to worry, Mister Gibbs, the _Pearl_ can outrun any storm." As if to contradict the Captain, thunder rumbled overhead. Jack shifted, and glanced up at the sky again. "In any case, muster the crew—I want all hands aloft to loose canvas."

"Aye, Cap'n," Gibbs said, and relayed the orders to the crew. "C'mon you scabrous dogs, you heard the Captain! All hands aloft, loose canvas!"

"Loose canvas, aye!" The crew shouted back, and hastened to follow Jack's orders. Men scurried back and forth across the _Pearl _letting lose the canvas sails, and performing other various duties.

Three quarters of an hour later, the Black Pearl made port in Tortuga. Fifteen minutes after that, Jack Sparrow was in the Faithful Bride Tavern, already well into his third mug of rum. A dark skinned, black haired young woman sat next to him, rolling her eyes every time he took a gulp.

"Y'know Ana," Jack slurred, "if you're not goin' t' do somethin' productive, ye could at the very least have some rum." Ana Maria's eyes shot up to the ceiling again.

"Sometimes, I just can't stand you, Jack Sparrow." Jack flashed her a gold-toothed grin.

"An' the other times?"

"Those be the times when I'm not around _you_," she growled, getting up and walking over to join the rest of his crew. Jack grinned, and called to the bartender to refill his mug.

Halfway into his fifth cup, Jack started to feel a bit dizzy. "Maybe I shouldn't have drank so much rum," he muttered to himself. He set the mug down, and glanced around the tavern. It was quite full tonight; drunkards danced this way and that, men fought each other over who would get the next woman, people played instruments back in the far corner—and all together, the place was extraordinarily _loud_. His head started to ache, and rubbing his temples only seemed to make it worse. "Maybe I'll jus' take a little nap," he mumbled, then promptly passed out.

Ana Maria, who was standing not far behind him, shook her head, laughed, and walked off.

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**A/N:** As some of you might have surmised, this is the point in the story that something interesting is actually going to take place. I promise, I'm not lying. Anyways, **please read and review**, I appreciate it. All characters you recognize are © to their appropriate owners. (**EDIT:** This chapter needed few corrections, so I'm quite positive that no one will notice.)


	3. I Beg Your Pardon?

**Chapter 3: I beg your pardon?**

"I have got to remember to stop doin' that! Bloody crew is goin' to bloody get it as soon as I get me bloody hands on them." Constable Ichabod Crane's eyes opened, his blurry vision gradually coming into focus. "Oh good, company!" The voice caused Ichabod to bolt straight up, which was a bad decision on his part. His ribs felt like they were on fire, and the back of his head throbbed painfully. He sat up, and leaned carefully against a building wall, when the voice spoke again. "You were only out for a few minutes, mate." The voice paused. "On second thought, it could be a bit longer, seein' as I just woke up meself." Ichabod turned his head and saw the owner of the voice sitting on five crates stacked on top of each other. The man wore the most bizarre clothes: He had a long brown overcoat, (that had obviously seen better days), a dirty white shirt, with an equally dirty blue vest over it, and a belt with a red and white sash and numerous random objects hanging from it. A weathered, leather tricorn had rested on the top of his head. The man looked nothing less than a criminal, which, judging by Ichabod's luck so far, he probably _was_. "I'm CaptainJack Sparrow, of the _Black Pearl_, just in case you didn't know," the man added cheerfully.

"Constable Ichabod Crane," Ichabod muttered automatically. There was another long pause, in which the young constable desperately tried to recall what happened. He mentally shook his head. He had to get home, get back to Katrina and young Masbath—all of a sudden, the memories came back, and an overwhelming wave of sorrow and guilt washed over him. It was his fault alone that his young friend had died. If only he had reacted faster, then Masbath might still have been alive, and they would've both headed back home safely. He gritted his teeth as he looked around, finally noticing that he was certainly _not _in New York anymore. Still in a dark alleyway, yes, but as he glanced to his right, he found himself looking out at a vast ocean, that seemed to stretch for miles. _Impossible!_ He thought franticly.

"Where am I?" Ichabod managed at last, having exhausted every logical explanation for this situation.

"Tha,' I can't tell you, I'm afraid," Jack said, shrugging. "Last time I checked, I was in one o' the Faithful Bride tavern in Tortuga, but it doesn't seem like I'm anywhere near there now. Of course, there is always a possibility of this happening when one tends to drink a bit too much rum….You all right mate?" For he had just noticed that the young constable had grown steadily paler over the past few minutes, and was breathing rather shallowly. Ichabod didn't even look up.

"Fine, thank you," he lied. Why didn't he tell this man, Captain Jack Sparrow, that he was in fact, not all right? Maybe it was because he wasn't sure he could trust him. Maybe it was because the pain ran deeper than just a few physical wounds. Or maybe it was because that when young Masbath had died, a part of him died with the lad; the part that allowed him to care. But Jack, it seemed, was not so easily fooled. He hopped down off the crates, swaggered in a strange manner over to him, and knelt down. Ichabod backed feebly against the wall.

"I assure you, Mr. Sparrow, I am quite alright," he said hurriedly. But Jack ignored him, and reached out towards Ichabod's side. "W-what are you doing?" He asked nervously. Jack rolled his eyes.

"When you've seen as much as I have, you'd also recognize when someone is injured, seriously or not. Which remains to be determined for you," he said, "now hold still." Ichabod grudgingly complied, and held as still as his shaking body would allow him. Jack felt down the right side of Ichabod's stomach gently, yet firmly. He paused when the young constable sucked in his breath, and stiffened, his fingernails digging into his palms. Jack frowned and prodded the spot again, this time a little harder. Ichabod jerked backwards, and slammed into the wall, only succeeding in making his already aching head hurt even worse. Sparrow smiled grimly. "It seems as if you've got yourself some broken ribs, Constable Crane—or rib. I can't tell by just feelin' your side; you'll need to take off your jacket, vest, and shirt."

"_What_?" Ichabod asked incredulously, not entirely sure if he had heard right.

"You'll need to take off your shirt," Jack repeated slowly, all the slur gone from his voice. "Or at least lift it up if you can. Carefully, mind you. You don't want to cause any more damage to your ribs than you already have." Ichabod settled on lifting up his shirt, which proved to be quite an arduous task. In the end, he finally asked an amused Jack to help him.

"I honestly don't see what's so funny!" He snapped, once they had successfully lifted his shirt up so that his ribs were exposed. Jack shook his head, still chuckling, and examined Ichabod's pale stomach. True to Sparrow's prediction, there was an unnatural indentation on his upper right side where his ribcage was located, and the area around it was dark purple.

"One broken rib then," Jack said in a business-like tone, as the young constable ran his hand carefully over his side. "Bloody 'ell!" Jack exclaimed, leaning closer and squinting. "Looks like someone did a nice job of bangin' you up, mate!" Ichabod took a deep breath, then stopped as pain lanced across his side, and started to cough—which, of course, only created more problems. "No, no, not good! Do not cough!" Jack said insistently. "Trust me, you'll only damage your rib more; possibly even fracture another one!" Ichabod, who had managed to stop coughing, grinned humorlessly.

"It's no more than I deserve," he said bitterly. Jack looked at him strangely.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, mate, but you seem like a well mannered," he glanced at a golden band around Ichabod's middle finger, "_married _young man. Why would you deserve something like this?" He gestured at the young constable's side. Ichabod remained silent, so Jack just shrugged, turned so that he was facing the moonlit ocean, and stared at it for a long while before saying; "We all have our own secrets, mate. Whether or not you choose to share them is your deal." He twisted back to look at Ichabod, then jumped up in surprise. The young constable had managed to put both his vest and jacket on, and was attempting to stand up. "What d'you think you're doin'?" Jack demanded sharply. Ichabod took a step forward and winced, holding his side.

"Going home," he grunted, as he staggered and leaned heavily against the brick wall. Jack snorted in disgust.

"I can see tha.' Now, you should sit back down before you kill yourself." But Ichabod shook his head.

"I cannot. I _must_ get home and tell Katrina what…what has happened." He pushed off the wall, and started to walk forwards out of pure determination. Jack frowned, then quite suddenly stood up, and walked next to Ichabod, who squared his shoulders, and continued to walk out of the alleyway; now at a faster pace. _The git is goin' to kill himself if he keeps this up, _Jack thought skeptically.

"You sure are stubborn mate," he pointed out. No answer. "You could at least rest for the remainder of the night…"

"No," Ichabod replied shortly, though he slowed down somewhat. (Out of exhaustion or compromise, he couldn't tell, but either way, Jack decided to put him in his place.) Jack strode quickly in front of Ichabod, who opened his mouth to say something, and grabbed the young constable by the front of his jacket, shoving him against the nearest building wall. He hit it with a grunt of pain, but his eyes flashed angrily. Ichabod started to say something, but Jack overrode him.

"Listen here, 'Constable,' he said the word mockingly, which sounded uncannily like Drew. "I have had many injuries over the past years, _including _broken ribs. That's the kind of lifestyle a pirate has to live." Ichabod's eyes widened, but Jack continued as if nothing had happened. "I've survived all of those injuries because I _did not _act rashly when I received them. If you keep doing irrational things, you could end up damaging your rib even further. Use your brain, Constable, you seem like a smart man to me. _Think _before you act!" Ichabod glared defiantly at Jack, who held his gaze with an equally icy stare. It was Ichabod who looked away first. He stared at the ground shamefacedly.

"God, I've been stupid," he said at last; albeit rather quietly. "All I cared about was getting home, getting back to Katrina, but I don't even know where I am right now. I always viewed myself as a 'rational man,' when in fact, I've been acting quite the opposite." He took a deep breath, feeling his broken rib grind against his stomach, and cringed. "So…you don't have any idea where we are?" Jack sighed, and let go of Ichabod's jacket.

"No, but we can find out easily enough." He backed up and said hesitantly; "I can go ask someone while you wait here, mate."

"No, that won't be necessary, I'll go with you," Ichabod said hastily, for the prospect of standing in an unknown alleyway at night was not one that sounded inviting. Jack shrugged and strode out of the alleyway, slowing his pace so that Ichabod could keep up. Once out of the alley, they noticed how empty the town was—not but a few people were traversing its streets; and even those few people seemed to be in a hurry. After a minute of watching and waiting, Ichabod spotted a man in a dark jacket walking on the same street as themselves, and stepped in front of him. "Excuse me sir, would you mind telling me where—"

"Outta' my way," the man growled, shoving the constable aside. Ichabod looked flustered.

"Nice to know tha' they're still some friendly people in this world," Jack said sarcastically. "Let me try." He took a deep breath and called out; "Oi!" The man turned around, scowling angrily as Jack walked up to him.

"What?" He asked irritably, eyeing Jack and Ichabod contemptuously.

"Look mate," Jack said, "all we want to bloody know is where we are right now." The man arched his eyebrows, then snorted.

"Port Nassau," he said, and turned to go, just as a sudden thought flashed through Ichabod's mind.

"And what year is it, sir?" He asked quickly. The man shook his head and continued walking.

"1734," he called out over his shoulder. Ichabod's jaw dropped, and he staggered, the world around him starting to spin unpleasantly.

"That's impossible," he whispered to himself, before his legs gave way, and passed out cold on the street. Jack had also been staring in confusion at the man's retreating back, but upon hearing the thump, whipped his head around. He spotted the young constable sprawled on the street, sighed, and walked over to him.

"If you were that tired, you could've told me, mate. Unless you were planning on sleepin' on the street all this time," he muttered sardonically, dragging Ichabod over to the nearest building wall, and laying him against it. "Now to find someplace to stay…" he muttered to himself, scanning the houses lining the road. His dark eyes finally settled on an elaborate, almost mansion-like house. "That'll do!" He said brightly, and sauntered over to the front door, knocking on it firmly. And elderly lady answered it. _Elderly would be an understatement, _Jack corrected himself silently. _This woman is bloody ancient! _Jack opened his mouth, and using the politest voice he could muster, said:

"This might not be the most appropriate time, Miss, but I was wonderin' on whether or not you'd be willin' to offer us some housin' for the night? You see, my friend had an…erm…accident, and is rather hurt." The lady stood staring at him. Jack shifted uncomfortably. "I'd be willin' to pay you for your efforts…" The lady's eyes traveled to Jack's belt, to the small compass dangling from it—then her eyes widened, and her whole demeanor changed.

"Of course, I'd love to house you and your friend. Would you like to help him over here?" Jack glanced behind him at Ichabod's still form, and rolled his eyes.

"Right," he said flatly, "I'll be right back, then." He stepped down off the porch, and swaggered over to the Constable. "Erm…mate?" He asked, prodding Ichabod in the shoulder. "C'mon, you don't expect me to carry you all the way back to the ancient's house, do you?" No answer. Jack sighed, grabbed the Constable's arm, and pulled him up so that he was leaning onto his shoulder. By the time he had hauled Ichabod over to the lady's house, the constable had started to come around. Jack, not one to miss an opportune moment, noticed this, and said; "Oh good! You're awake. I wasn't lookin' forward to draggin' you inside." He abruptly let go of Ichabod, who stumbled, as he was unprepared for the sudden lack of support. Once he'd regained his balance, he glared at the pirate.

"You could've warned me that you were about to let go." Jack acted like he couldn't hear, and gestured towards the large house behind him.

"What d'ye think?" Ichabod eyed him in confusion, then took a step back as an elderly lady appeared behind him.

"Ah," she said, causing Jack to jump, "I see your friend is awake. Would you two like to come in now, so I can show you to your rooms?"

"She offered to house us for the night, mate," Jack added. Ichabod's brow furrowed.

"Well, then, thank you, miss…?"

"Maria," she stated.

"Thank you Miss Maria. It is most appreciated." Maria smiled at the two.

"Should I show you to your rooms, then?" Jack bowed with a flourish.

"Tha' be the best thing I've heard all night!" Ichabod elbowed Jack. What was tha' for?!" He hissed, rubbing his side.

"We would be most grateful Miss Maria," the constable corrected. Maria smiled in amusement.

"Please come in, then," she said, gesturing towards the open door. Jack sauntered up the steps and into the hallway, followed by a suddenly hesitant constable. The hallway was littered with ornate objects, some of which looked so odd, that not even Jack was entirely sure of their purpose. "You're room is straight down this hallway, and it will be the door on your left, Mr. Sparrow," Maria said, closing the front door with a snap. She turned towards Ichabod, and her brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that I don't know your name, young man."

"Constable Ichabod Crane," Ichabod stated.

"Well, Constable Crane, your room is straight down this hallway, and the door is on the right." Ichabod smiled gratefully, and said;

"Thank you Miss Maria. Your hospitality is most welcome."

"Aye," Jack added, "we appreciate it." Ichabod walked down the hallway, and opened the door to his room, while Jack, however, remained by their hostess.

"Don't you want something to eat, Constable?" Maria inquired. Ichabod paused, his hand on the door knob.

"No thank you, Miss," he said, after a moment's hesitation. "I think I'll just get some rest, if you don't mind."

"Of course not. Your friend informed me that you had a few injuries, so I'll bring some tea that'll have you feeling better in no time at all." Ichabod nodded appreciatively, and disappeared inside the room. The house was silent for a few seconds, then:

"I wouldn't mind havin' some food, if you have any to spare." Maria chuckled.

"I bet you wouldn't, Mr. Sparrow. Well, follow me into the kitchen, then. I'll see if I can fix you something." As Jack silently obeyed, he gave no second thought to the fact that Maria knew his name, despite the fact that he had never mentioned it to her.

--

**A/N:** Oooh, spooky. **Please read and review**! Many thanks to those who have already done so, I appreciate it. All the characters you recognize are © to their respected creators. (Yup, this one has been edited too, so I hope that there aren't as many mistakes in it.)


	4. Maria?

**Chapter 4: Maria?**

Ten minutes later, a very content captain sat at an immaculately polished wooden table, drinking the best soup he'd ever tasted. Maria stood mixing some herbs into a cup of hot water.

"I take it you like my cooking, Mr. Sparrow?" Jack looked up, and grinned, several of his gold teeth flashing.

"I do indeed."

"Well," she said chuckling, "I'm going to give this tea to your friend, Mr. Crane, if he isn't already asleep." Jack nodded nonchalantly, but as she walked out, he stared at her retreating form—and seconds later, his eyes widened, and he flashed a knowing smile. He laughed quietly to himself, then continued drinking his soup.

"Mr. Crane?" Maria called out, knocking on the door to his room. She tried the knob and found it locked. Suddenly, the rustle of sheets being pulled back sounded from the room, and a thump confirmed her suspicion that he had just gotten out of bed. The lock clicked, and when he opened the door, he looked rather flustered, his words coming out in a rather rushed manner.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss, I didn't mean to lock the door. It's out of habit from what I did back home, and—"

"Constable, please," Maria said, holding up her hand, smiling in understanding. "It's okay. I brought you your tea. Make sure to drink all of it, otherwise the effect desired will not take place."

"I will, Miss, thank you," Ichabod said, gingerly taking the China tea cup from her hands.

"Have a good rest, Constable," she said, as he shut the door and retreated back into his room. That's when Jack's voice sounded behind her.

"So tell me, Ana Maria: what's become of my ship?"

--

**A/N**:) Thank you to those who reviewed my previous chapters; especially **Tilt At Windmills**. Your review made my day, and I really appreciate it! Next chapter should be up tomorrow, and will be longer than this one, I promise! (EDIT: Please note that this chapter has been edited.) To the rest of you, **please read and review!**


	5. All Jack's Fault

**Chapter 5: All Jack's Fault**

Ana Maria turned around, not at all surprised that Jack had figured out who she really was. Said captain was leaning against the entryway of the door, a smug look plastered on his face. Ana felt the old stirring of annoyance within her, and walked up to him, slapping him soundly on the face. Jack touched his reddening cheek, and winced. "Not sure I deserved that," he muttered. Ana stepped forwards, and, despite her age, Jack took a step back.

"Yes, you did!" Her eyes were narrowed angrily. "Where have you been Jack Sparrow? You disappear for 60 odd years, then appear before me not having aged since I last saw you!"

"Well, you see, there's a funny story behind tha—" SMACK. Jack staggered backwards. "Calm down Ana! Look, it wasn't my fault this time!" But Ana Maria would have none of that.

"Not your fault? Not your fault?! Do you have any idea how much worry your disappearance caused your crew? After years of searching for you, most of the crew had given up. They wouldn't risk the East India Company infested waters to look for a captain who'd disappeared off the face of the Earth. Elizabeth, Will, Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, and I were the only ones who held the hope that you might someday appear, but you never did! And on top of that, we _sold_ the _Pearl_! We couldn't continue to crew her; we didn't have the means, so we sold her to a port leagues away from here." Ana took a deep breath, and glared at the captain. For the first time, Jack looked utterly helpless. He stepped forwards.

"Look, Ana," he started weakly, "…I could say 'I'm sorry', but it doesn't seem like that would make up for what you went through. But I can honestly say tha' it _wasn't_ my fault. You know I wouldn't desert you and the crew, much less the _Pearl_." As he mentioned his ship, a look of profound sadness crossed his face.

"What _is_ your explanation, then, Jack? By some accident of nature, you got sucked into a time portal and transported into the future?"

"I'm startin' to think that's the case," he said sincerely. "What else do you think could've happened?"

Ana Maria shook her head.

"I really don't know what to think anymore, Jack. I can't take in all of this information at once, I'm a little older than when you last saw me." Jack flashed her a grin.

"I've noticed."

"Wretch!" Ana hissed, but her eyes twinkled in amusement.

"So…you sold her, then, aye?" Ana didn't even need to ask Jack what he was talking about.

"Aye, Jack, we sold her. You must understand the circumstances that were presented to us, though." The pirate rubbed his neck and nodded.

"I understand…" There was a moment of silence. "Is there any more soup left, Ana?" Ana Maria sighed explosively, and rolled her eyes.

"Jack Sparrow, you are impossible!"

--

**A/N:** Please review! I promise the next chapter will have some interesting things going on. In fact, I should have it posted up tomorrow. All characters are © their respective creators. I own none…yet. Oh, and about the length...um, sorry? I know I said I would make this longer, but I ended up cutting some of it out, and putting it into chapter six. Anyways, many thanks to my reviewers! (**EDIT**: Please note that this chapter has been edited.) To any new readers, please **review**!


	6. The Murder

**Chapter 6: The Murder**

When Ichabod Crane woke up, he immediately noticed two things: one, his ribs had stopped hurting, and two, there seemed to be a very suspicious looking lump under the covers near the end of his bed. He was just going through a mental list of what the object could, when suddenly, the lump moved. Ichabod yelped, and scrambled out of his bed, knocking over Maria's tea cup that he'd set on the drawer the previous night. The cup hit the ground and shattered, what was left of its contents spilling all over the floor. The lump under the sheets moved again, when abruptly, a black cat shot out from beneath the covers. The Constable jumped backwards as the cat streaked past him.

"Constable Crane?" Maria's voice sounded from the other side of the door. "Is everything alright in there?" Ichabod took a deep breath, his nerves settling down.

"Yes, Miss, everything is fine. I'm quite sure, though, that I was not informed that you had a cat." The door to his room opened, and Maria stepped in, chuckling.

"Oh, I see you've met Demon. You don't have to worry, Constable he's relatively harmless." Ichabod looked uncertainly at Demon, who hissed back at him. The Constable flinched, and backed up further.

"Y-yes, of rouse," he stammered, trying to regain his composure.

"How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Crane?" Ichabod automatically ran his hand over his side.

"I'm actually feeling quite a lot better, thank you. What you gave me last night—" He stopped abruptly, and felt his side again. His eyes widened, and forgetting all propriety, he lifted his white cotton shirt up halfway, and stared at his ribs. Everything looked normal, and not even a bruise remained. _Impossible! _"W-what did you give me last night, Miss?" He whispered. Maria's eyes glinted in amusement.

"Just a little something that an old friend of mine taught me to fix up," she said airily. Ichabod glanced nervously around him.

"Please excuse me for a moment," he said, then walked quickly out of the room. Ana Maria kept the smile on her face until he walked out, then rolled her eyes.

"Some constable, eh Demon?" She commented, glancing at him. The black cat licked its paw, and mewed softly.

--

Jack was sitting on the edge of his bed, absently fingering one of the beads attached to his dreadlocks, when Ichabod burst into his room, looking pale and thoroughly shaken.

"Mr. Sparrow, I—"

"—Jack." Ichabod froze, looking utterly confused.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Call me Jack. Honestly, under the circumstances tha' we're in, I hardly think that bein' proper matters."

"Alright, Jack, then," Ichabod said distractedly. "Our hostess, did you notice her put anything strange into my tea cup last night?" Jack looked up.

"Ana? Dunno, why d'you ask?" Ichabod let out a slow breath.

"My broken rib…it's healed. It's like I'd never even damaged it in the first place." Jack suddenly stopped fiddling with his bead.

"What?" The constable shifted uncomfortably.

"It's healed. There's not even a mark left." Jack slid off the end of the bed, and swaggered over to Ichabod.

"Are you sure?" He didn't seem worried at all, merely exasperated, which the constable found rather strange.

"Yes, quite sure." The pirate rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed, obviously searching for the right words. When he found none, he said;

"I'll be right back, mate." As he left, Ichabod sat down on the end of Jack's bed and put his head in his hands. Clearly it was going to be a long day.

--

"Ana Maria, what on God's green Earth did you feed the man?!" Ana sighed in exasperation.

"Did it work?"  
"_What_?" She walked out of the kitchen, and was annoyed to find Jack following her.

"Did his broken rib heal?" The pirate crossed his arms, and said sarcastically;

"Oh aye, it worked, but you might—"

"Then this conversation has little or no point," she interrupted. Jack knew that Ana could be extraordinarily stubborn when she put her mind to it, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of his defeat.

"Ana, I'm pretty sure that _where_ and _when_ he comes from, they don't have those kinds of things." Ana turned towards Jack, her black eyes like twin burning coals.

"What's done is done!" And that settled the matter.

--

Jack re-entered his room, and found Ichabod sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The constable must have noticed that he was no longer alone, for he sat up straight, and looked expectantly at Jack. When the pirate remained silent, Ichabod said;

"Did she say anything?" Jack shrugged.

"Nothin' whatsoever."

"Oh."

"Jus' take it for the miracle tha' it is, and leave the matter be," Jack added. Ichabod detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but didn't mention anything.

"Alright…well, thank you for letting me know." Jack waved his hand dismissively, and the room fell silent. After a few seconds of listening to Ana cleaning up the remains of the breakfast they shared earlier, Ichabod said what they'd both undoubtedly been thinking.

"Do you think that we'll be able to get back to our own time, if we are indeed in the period that the pedestrian told us?"

"Fact is, we _are_, in the time period that the man spoke of, I have suitable enough proof of that," Jack said, rolling his eyes at the last statement. "As to findin' a way home, I'm afraid I know only one such person who'd have the knowledge to be able to find a way to get back. Or rather, I _knew_ one such person. I've no idea if she's still alive."

"So," the constable started slowly, "we're stuck he—" A loud flurry of knocking interrupted any further conversation. Ana's voice barely penetrated the din.

"I'm comin', hold your liver in, ye knave!" Jack grinned at Ichabod's raised eyebrow.

"Ana Maria has been putting up the polite mask for you, eh? Well, what you just heard is the _true_ Ana." He opened the door and walked out.

_You're a long way from New York, Constable. _Baltus Van Tassel's words echoed in his head.

"A century at least," Ichabod found himself murmuring. He sighed, and walked out of the room.

--

When the constable had made his way to the front door, he found Jack and Ana arguing over whether or not they should answer the door. This situation was solved as soon as Ichabod strode forwards, grabbed the door knob, and twisted it open. On the front step stood a disheveled looking man; he was shaking, and his eyes were wide with fear. Ana eyed him in confusion.

"Mr. Downes? What seems to be the matter?"

"It's Mr. and Mrs. Gates, Miss," he panted, "they've just been found murdered! Decapitated! Their heads are no where to be found!

--

**A/N:** Please review, and I'll have it updated by the end of this weekend! Once again, characters are © their respective creators—I only own Downes and Mr. and Mrs. Gates.


	7. That's Interesting

**Chapter 7: That's interesting…**

Ichabod instantly paled. "D-decapitated?" Downes spared him a glance.

"Yes sir." Ana and Jack looked disgusted and slightly horrified.

"Tha's not right," Jack said. Ichabod stood rooted to the spot, feeling quite dizzy. _Steady man. There's no proof that the murder is the Horseman. It's not possible. _Ana rolled her eyes.

"Did they find the murderer?" Downes scrunched up his eyes in thought.

"No ma'am. But the bodies…something peculiar…" Ichabod stiffened. "There was hardly and blood at all, it's quite strange." _This cannot be happening…_Ichabod thought, leaning as inconspicuously on the door as he could, trying to steady himself.

"Mr. Downes," he managed, "did anyone move the bodies yet?" If Downes found this question strange in any way, he didn't show it.

"No, the bodies are in the same position as when they were found." The constable breathed a sigh of relief. _At least in this time period, the authorities have the decency to leave the evidence be._

"Can you lead me to them?" Ichabod asked, composing himself at last. "I might be able to deduce the murderer if I can examine the bodies." The question seemed to finally penetrate the wall of panic that Downes had felt when he had first arrived, for he stopped fidgeting, and stared at Ichabod in confusion.

"Erm…aye, I can do that," he said hesitantly.

"Much appreciated," the constable said, nodding in thanks. Jack stepped forwards, leaning on the door, as if making to shut it.

"Can you give us a moment, mate?" Downes looked utterly perplexed.

"O-of cour—"

"Good man!" Jack said, snapping the door shut in Downes's face. The pirate turned to Ichabod.

"What the bloody 'ell were you thinkin'!? 'If I can examine the bodies, I might be able to deduce the murderer'," he imitated sarcastically. "I'm pretty sure that people in this time don't go around pokin' at dead bodies!"

"Oh, shut it, Sparrow!" Ana spat. "The constable is from a different time period, as you'd so kindly pointed out to me earlier. Obviously they use different ways to solve situations like this!" Jack glanced over at Ichabod, an accusatory expression on his face, as if it was his fault that he had to face Ana's wrath. But the constable was not looking at either of them, instead staring rather interestedly at a scuff in the floor, his face flushed.

"Actually," he said with a hint of embarrassment, "I'm the only one out of my fellow constables that uses scientific techniques to solve crimes. My superiors don't think too highly of them. Or me," he added as an afterthought. "But even so, I don't have any of my tools with me, so the most I'd be able to do is make an approximate guess." After receiving a sharp glare from Ana, Jack sighed.

"Well…an approximate guess is better than nothing,' I s'pose." Ichabod smiled gratefully, and opened the front door. Mr. Downes, who looked rather agitated, jumped back upon seeing the constable. Ichabod drew himself up and straightened his shoulders.

"Mr. Downes, will you kindly take me to the bodies then?"

"Right this way, then, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Downes," Ichabod said, forcing a smile onto his face.

--

As Downes led Ichabod out of the house and down the street, Ana sighed heavily.

"That constable is a strange sort." She remarked, crossing her arms, and staring out at their retreating forms. Jack was halfway across the street by the time that Ana noticed she was standing alone. "Oi! Where are ye goin,' Sparrow?" Jack spun around and flashed her a gold-toothed smile.

"Call it curiosity," he called back. Ana's brow furrowed.

"Careful Jack," she warned, as he continued down the road, "curiosity killed the sparrow!"

"Aye, love, but fate brought him back," he countered cheerfully.

"Bloody nutter," she grumbled, disappearing back inside her house.

--

**A/N: **Umm…yeah. Please review! I should have this updated by Friday, if I don't have too much schoolwork to do. Thank you to all my reviewers, especially **pumpkinpuss**—your review made me extremely happy!


	8. The Headless Horseman

**Chapter 8: The Headless Horseman**

When Ichabod Crane arrived at the sight of the murder, he immediately had to fight the impulse to run as far away as he possibly could. In the center of the cobblestone streets lay the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Gates; and true to Downes's word, their heads were severed from their bodies, and were missing from the site.

"Here they are, sir," Downes said, looking faintly sick. Ichabod glanced around, and was surprised to see that there was no one around. _Strange, _he thought, _you'd think that the decapitation of two locals would at least attract _some_ attention. _

"Thank you, Mr. Downes," he said, kneeling down next to the body of Mrs. Gates. The constable braced himself as he leaned forwards, using a broken twig to examine the neck. "Impossible!" He murmured to himself, disbelief overpowering his revulsion." The wound _was_ cauterized…it has to be the Horseman's blade…"

"Well, look at that!" Ichabod jumped and dropped the stick as the loud exclamation sounded behind him. "You _are_ pokin' at dead bodies!" He turned around and spotted Jack standing not but a few feet behind him. _I didn't even hear him follow us…_

"I am not 'poking' at dead bodies," Ichabod said defensively, snatching the stick off of the ground. "I am _examining _them, and because of my lack of scientific instruments, I was forced to use a stick." The pirate cocked his head.

"Still looks like pokin' to me."

"It's not," the constable said shortly, though his face was turning red. Jack held up his hands in mock defense.

"So, have your 'deductions' given you any answers yet?" Ichabod sighed and stood up.

"Yes…they have, actually. Due to the obvious proof in front of me, I have reason to believe that the murderer of Mister and Misses Gates is none other than the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow." _God, that sounded ridiculously outlandish…_Jack stared at him blankly.

"The what of who?" Ichabod rubbed the back of his neck.

"There is a town in upstate New York called 'Sleepy Hollow,'" he started, wondering how on Earth he was going to explain the Horseman. It was impossible to try and elucidate the sheer terror that the sight of the Hessian and his monstrous horse brought; impossible to describe all of the gruesome murders that he witnessed while trying to solve the mystery. He shuddered just thinking about it. "I was sent to Sleepy Hollow to solve the murders of three of the town's residents," he continued. "Needless to say, it was quite the harrowing experience," _–an understatement—_ "During the course of my investigation, I figured out that the murderer was a headless Hessian warrior. He rode an enormous black stallion, named Daredevil, and with the help of a person of flesh and blood, the Horseman murdered ten people. Eventually, the Horseman gained his skull back, and rode Daredevil, and their human accomplice, back into the Tree of the Dead, where they had originally spawned." Ichabod took a deep breath. _I never thought I'd have to relive this experience again._ Jack stared at Ichabod, seemingly contemplating the information.

"So," he said finally," there was a headless guy riding around on a horse."

"Right."

"And the Horseman galloped around on said horse choppin' people's heads off," he continued slowly.

"Correct."

"And now you believe tha' the Horseman is here in Nassau. In 1734."

"Yes, that is what I believe."

"How the devil did he get here then?" Jack asked, gesturing rather wildly.

"I honestly have no idea," Ichabod said weakly. "I assume that he got here the same way we did, but…it doesn't make sense!" Jack looked confused.

"What? The time travel issue? Because that obviously isn't—"

"—No, not the time travel issue," the constable said dismissively. "The Horseman takes heads until his own is restored to him—which it was. I don't understand why he is murdering innocents again." He started pacing. "Unless…of course! Unless, during the process of time travel, he some how lost his head!" Jack stood staring uninterestedly at his fingernails.

"Meaning?"

"_Meaning_ that he will continue to kill people until his head is restored to him, but this time, the murders are by will of his own!" The constable stopped pacing.

"So how will we return his head to him if we have now idea where it's at?" Ichabod shook his head.

"I'm not sure," he murmured, rubbing his temples as a headache started to form.

"Hmmm…well, we certainly won't figure anythin' out by just standin' her," Jack said. "What say we head back to Ana's house, and think about it over some rum—er, tea, eh?"

Ichabod nodded his consent, and they both turned and headed back, leaving a very confused Downes behind them. The man shook his head.

"That is the last time I have any more rum!"

--

As soon as Ana's house came into view, Jack and Ichabod sensed that something was wrong.

"Careful," Jack warned unnecessarily. Ichabod pulled out his flintlock pistol, and Jack followed his lead. Once they were near enough to the house, the noticed that the door was open, and that the wooden patterns were splintered.

"Not good," Jack whispered, pushing the door aside quietly.

"Where is Miss Mari—erm, Ana?" Ichabod asked, glancing around the room. But at that precise moment, the answer to the question became quite clear….

--

**A/N:** I want to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far—I really appreciate it! I'm in the process of writing chapter nine, so I might have it updated by Saturday or Sunday, at the latest. Please review, your feedback has been most encouraging!


	9. The Plan

**Chapter 9: The Plan**

There was a loud squeal and an even louder SMACK!

"I'll get you, you little bugger!" Then, a second later, a blur of black and white shot past Jack's foot and into Ichabod's bedroom.

"Ana?" Jack called out hopefully. The next moment, a _very _angry looking Ana Maria stepped into the room, breathing heavily. "I'll not tolerate this!" She raged, holding what looked to be an exceptionally old and rusty cutlass in her right hand. "I'm _sick_ of the little devil! Always runnin' around, stealin' my possessions and messin' up my house—" She slammed the cutlass down on the ground, and both Ichabod and Jack winced.

"Ana, what's bloody wrong?!" Jack asked, as another slam of her cutlass almost struck his boot.

"_That_ is what's wrong!" She hissed, pointing in the direction of the constable's bedroom. Timidly, Ichabod and Jack edged towards the room, expecting the absolute worse.

"A monkey?" Ichabod eyed the little primate in confusion.

"Not just any monkey," Jack groaned, "_Barbossa's _monkey." The Capuchin monkey sat on Ichabod's bed, fidgeting with its tail. As soon as Ana entered the room, the monkey screeched, and jumped on Jack's shoulder. "I didn't know that these little buggers lived for so long," the pirate remarked, staring distastefully at the primate.

"They don't," Ana said, glaring in Jack's direction. "_That_ little bugger is Barbossa's new devil in training." Jack stopped staring at the monkey, who was now toying with the beads in his dreadlocks, and glanced up at Ana in surprise.

"What happened to Jack?" Ichabod set his flintlock pistol back in its holster, listening to the conversation with varied levels of confusion.

"Died," Ana said shortly. "The demon that's sitting on your shoulder is Will." Jack chuckled to himself.

"Good likeness."

"I don't mean to be rude, but we've got to do something about the Horseman," Ichabod pointed out, as Ana opened her mouth to make another comment.

"Who?"

"Long story short, there's a headless guy riding about on a horse from _his _time," Jack gestured towards the constable, "choppin' people's heads off because he can't find his own. And we need a way to stop him." Ana looked extremely confused.

"A headless guy? How is that even possi—"

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, and believe me, I don't entirely understand it meself," Jack interrupted, "but jus' pretend for a moment that you know what's goin' on. Can you think of any way tha' we might be able to stop it, er, him?

Ana looked thoughtful for a moment, ignoring Will's nervous chattering.

"Her," she said at last. Jack's gaze darkened.

"Aye, that's what I thought you'd say. She's alive then?"

"Alive and well," Ana confirmed.

"Who?" Ichabod asked.

"But you'd need a way to get to Her, and I don't have a ship you can "borrow" again."

"Find a way to get to whom?" Jack nodded in agreement at Ana's comment.

"We could always commandeer a ship to get to Her. She's not too far away, and between the two of us, I think we can manage. After all, the whelp and I pulled it off."

"Commandeer a ship to get to _whom_? I'm confused," the constable said, glancing desperately between the two. Jack and Ana both looked back at Ichabod, then started to laugh. The pirate swaggered over to him, and threw his arm around the constable.

"Not to worry, mate, you'll see Her soon enough. Just know that she's a good friend of ours. I think." Jack looked down for a second, seemingly confused, then glanced back up and gave a reassuring "I have no idea what I'm talking about" smile.

"And you think that this woman will be able to stop the Horseman?" Ichabod queried, slowly walking towards his bed.

Jack's smile grew larger.

"Ah, not only that, but I do believe tha' she has the means so send us back to our own time period!" The constable whipped around, and for the first time, Jack noticed a true glimmer of hope enter his eyes.

"Are you certain?" _Absolutely not! Jack _thought_. _But instead, he flashed Ichabod a grin

"Of course! Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?" Before Ichabod could open his mouth, Ana interrupted.

"Don't answer that one, Ichabod, because you'll just as soon regret it." Jack pretended to look hurt, but Ana just rolled her eyes, not falling for his trick for a moment. The pirate ignored this gesture, and turned towards Ichabod.

"Erm, what say we commandeer a ship, preferably a small sloop or a schooner, and sail on over to Her bayou so we can all flounce back to our own time, eh? What say you to that?" Ichabod looked rather skeptical.

"But stealing a ship is against the law…" Jack snorted.

"And tha' applies to me _how_? I'm a pirate. Most of my life has been spent doing things 'against the law,' as you say. And anyways, don't think of it as stealing; more like borrowing for an extended amount of time, with the slight possibility that we might never return it." The constable sighed. "Do you want to stop the Horseman and go back to your own time period, or should I just head off by meself?"

"Of course I want to go bac—"

"Great, it's settled then! We leave," Jack said, striding towards the door and wrenching it open, only to find sheets of rain pouring down on the streets, "first thing tomorrow morning. Any questions?" He finished, without missing a beat. Ichabod shook his head, but Ana stepped up.

"Before you head out tomorrow," Ana said, " I think that there is someone who would very much like to see you." Jack looked confused.

"Who is it?" Ana hesitated, which made Jack feel slightly nervous. Ana usually _never_ hesitated.

"William Turner."

--

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Jack, Ichabod, or Ana. All characters are (c) their respective owners. I know I said I'd have this chapter up by last Saturday, but I had so many tests to study for, it wasn't even funny. I finally got some time off to work on it today, so thankfully, I took advantage of the situation. **Please read and review!** I can't say when the next chapter will be posted up, because next Thursday is Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. :D

I want to thank all of my reviewers: **Lady-Jana-Sparrow**, **pumpkinpuss**, **Freakk66**, **Tilt At Windmills**, **PIRATEical ELF of Mirkwood**, and **Billie Jukes**. You guys make me very happy when I read your reviews, and they inspire me to keep writing, so thanks so much, the lot of you!


	10. Will Turner explains

**Chapter 10: Will Turner Explains  
**

"Well, I certainly didn't expect this," Jack commented, staring up at the hulking barnacle encrusted galleon, the _Flying Dutchman_. Ana had led Ichabod and Jack down to Nassau's dock, and right up to Davy Jones's ship, the _Dutchman_, insisting that Will had agreed on meeting them there. As he was examining the ship warily, a single figure stepped from around the _Dutchman's_ hull—William Turner. "Will!" Jack called out cheerfully, striding up to him. "Lovely to see you again, mate!" Will grinned.

"It's nice to see you too, Jack."

It took Jack only a few seconds to realize that Will hadn't aged a day since he last saw him, albeit, his clothes were rather different. He wore a black overcoat with a red cotton shirt underneath—the silver buttons inlaid into the jacket glinted in the light of the early morning. His left ear had two gold earrings that were pierced near the bottom of his ear, and his black hair was pulled back into a faded green bandana that was wrapped around his head. What attracted Jack's attention the most, though, and what made his gut twist nervously, was the jagged red scar that ran down the left side of Will's chest.

"Where's Jones?" Jack asked, confused that the captain of the _Dutchman_ had not yet spotted them. Will looked down, and sighed heavily. In that instant, everything fell into place—Turner's youth, his attire, the fact that the Dutchman's captain was nowhere in sight, and the scar that ran _right over his heart_. Jack shook his head slowly. "Mate…you didn't…?" Will grimaced, and fingered the hilt of his cutlass.

"Jack…when you disappeared in Tortuga…Elizabeth, she looked so devastated when she found out that you were gone. We searched for you all over the ocean, and ended up having to fight against a small ragtag group of Beckett's ships, including the _Dutchman_. We were losing the battle, you were no where in sight, and the East India Company was closing in. On top of that, my father was still on Jones's ship, still serving under him. I knew that if I ever wanted to fulfill my promise to my father, I would have to do it then. But I also knew that every step I took towards my father was a step away from Elizabeth." Will's dark brown eyes reflected the torment that he was feeling inside, and it was all Ana could do to not walk up to him and comfort him. "I expressed to her my desires to free my father. She put on a brave face and said that it was my choice, but it was easy for me to see past her smile. I was losing her, Jack, and she was right in front of me. I just couldn't take all of that, couldn't choose between her or my father. When I brought your name up, I saw something enter her eyes. Sadness, maybe? Longing? I don't know, but, in my frustration, I accused her, Jack. Accused her of loving you. We got into such a fight, and she ended up storming off, saying that if I was going to act like that, then perhaps she was better off with you." The memory clearly pained him, for Will was gripping his cutlass so hard that his knuckles were white. "I was so angry at that point, that I swung across a rope onto the Dutchman, and went to stab Jones's heart. But all I found was an empty chest. The heart, along with its captain, had also disappeared. I didn't know what to do, so I took a dagger, and I summoned Calypso, with the help of Barbossa…and I asked her…if she could…" He broke off.

"If she could help you cut out your heart," Jack finished for him solemnly. Will nodded.

"She named me the new captain of the _Dutchman _in Jones's absence, but I think she took pity on me. I'm still to perform Jones's duties, but I can walk on land any time it fancies me, and I have not retained any of my crew's attributes." Jack made a face, and watched the _Dutchman_ rock slowly in the harbor, her planks of wood creaking mournfully with each tilt. Indeed, it seemed as if even the _Dutchman_ herself was lamenting for her captain, for the pain that he had suffered over the years.

"Your crew are still fish-people, then, are they?" Jack asked at last.

"Aye, what's left of them, that is. I released my father as soon as I was able to, as well as a few others that wanted nothing more to be free, to sail forever in the seas of the afterlife. Those that were too far gone, like Wyvern, remained, as well as those that were too attached to the _Dutchman_ to leave her." Jack felt immense pity for Will. It seemed that all the young lad's misery was due to his disappearance, which was most likely his own fault, and he swore that he would do everything in his power to set things right again…which meant that they _needed_ to sail to Tia Dalma's hut. She was their only hope. The pirate glanced over at Ichabod, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Mate," Jack started, "what if I told you tha' there was a way to fix this. All of it." Will grinned, a ghost of his former self passed across his face.

"Jack...no cursed Aztec treasure or Dead Man's Chest is going to undo any of what I've already inflicted on myself." Jack held up a finger.

"Ah, but there is _someone_ who might be able to help." Will noticed the glint in Jack's eyes, shook his head, still smiling.

"You're not thinking of Tia Dalma, are you?" The corner of Jack's mouth quirked upwards in a smile.

"Coincidentally, that is _exactly_ who I was thinkin' of."

"Even Tia can't turn back time, Jack."

"You'd be surprised," Jack said, his kohl rimmed eyes wide and innocent. Will remained silent for a bit, then spoke.

"Let's say I went along with your idea. What would be in it for you?"

"Nothin' besides you allowin' us to accompany you on the _Dutchman_."

"Us?" Will inquired curiously. Jack waved Ichabod forwards.

"This," he said, "is Constable Ichabod Crane, who will also be comin' with us to Tia Dalma's hut." Will shook Ichabod's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Turner," Ichabod said, smiling briefly.

"You too, Mister Crane."

"Great, now we've got two polite eunuchs on board," Jack muttered.

"But if you don't mind me asking," Will continued, ignoring Jack's remark, "what are your intentions for this trip?"

"I too, have a few wrongs to right, and to do so, I must go back to my own time period," the constable explained. Turner looked at him, his brow furrowing.

"You're…from a different time period?" Before Ichabod could reply, Jack intervened.

"Technically, yes, but more on that later. What we need to know, preferably _now_, is if you'll let us sail with you." Will grinned, and made a bowing gesture towards the _Dutchman_.

"By all means Captain Sparrow and Constable Crane."

"You're a diamond, mate!" Jack exclaimed happily, clapping Will on the shoulder.

"Thank you very much…_Captain_ Turner," Ichabod added, receiving a glare from Jack and a snort of laughter from Ana. Jack shook his head, looked at Will, and jerked his head in Ana's direction, then pointed to himself. Taking the hint, Will said to the constable;

"Mister Crane, let me show you around the Flying Dutchman before we cast off, just so you're not too…surprised." Ichabod nodded his agreement, and followed Will up the Dutchman's port ramp onto the ship.

"Ana," Jack said softly, once the two were out of sight, "…be careful, alright?" Ana walked up to Jack.

"Worry about your own safety, Sparrow," she teased, punching him playfully on the shoulder. Jack winced.

"You know, for such an old woman, you still punch too hard for my likin'," he muttered.

"Wretch!" Ana hissed, but her eyes twinkled in amusement. Jack flashed her a gold-toothed grin, and started towards the Dutchman. "I expect to see you back in Tortuga, Sparrow, where we last left you _before_ you disappeared!" She called out. "And if I'm even a day older than twenty two when you arrive back, I swear to God I'll slap you so hard, you'll fly from the Faithful Bride all the way to the Isla De Muerta!"

"I wouldn't dream of doin' that, Ana!" Jack called back over his shoulder, grinning happily.

When Will saw Jack swagger up the _Dutchman's_ port ramp, he called out to his crew;

"All hands, weigh anchor, let loose the canvas!"

"Weigh anchor and let loose canvas, aye!" They shouted back. Satisfied for the moment, he walked up to his first mate, Maccus, who was standing at the helm. Maccus resembled a grey hammer-head shark, with barnacles, and other various sea life, growing out of his body. He was a skillful and cunning fighter, and was one of the original members of Davy's crew. "Chart a course for Tia Dalma's shack," he said quietly.

"The witch?" Maccus asked, surprised that his captain had decided to revisit that particular "old friend". "What d'you want with her?"

"Personal business," was all Will said. "Be advised that we have two guests aboard the _Dutchman_—Jack Sparrow, and a man by the name of Ichabod Crane. I want absolutely _no_ harm to come to them, understood?" Maccus involuntarily gripped his boarding axe at the mention of Jack's name.

"Aye, sir," he growled grudgingly. Will started to head off towards his cabin, then stopped.

"And Maccus?"

"Sir?"

"I have found Ichabod Crane to be rather skittish, so try not to scare him _too_ much, if you can help it."

"Aye, sir," Maccus said, grinning wickedly. The trip to the witch's shack might warrant some entertainment after all.

--

**A/N:** Yes! Chapter 10 is done—not to mention _before_ At World's End is released! So, yes, this chapter is mostly Will explaining to Jack about what happened to him after our captain disappeared. There will be more Ichabod in the next one…along with a few of Will's crew members…-evil laugh- Anyways, **please read and review**! All of you who reviewed last time are AWEsome! Ichabod, Jack, Will, Ana, and Maccus are © their respected creators.


	11. Ichabod Impresses Some Crew Members

**Chapter 11: Ichabod impresses some crew members**

"You can have the bed, and I'll take the…floor."

"While that seems quite generous of you, I think that I'll sleep on the floor, and you can kindly take the bed." Jack sighed, and rolled his eyes. Obviously, Ichabod wasn't going to give in any time soon. They had been arguing back and forth for a few minutes over who would sleep in the bed and who would sleep on the floor. Normally, Jack would have taken the bed in a manner of seconds, but the condition of said object of interest looked as if it hadn't been given a thorough cleaning in at least a hundred years, and it had a rather peculiar smell, like that rotting fish; which actually made plenty of sense, seeing as the inhabitants of the _Dutchman_, aside from Will, were _all_ some form of sea creature, or another. In fact, the whole cabin that Will had given to them was looking relatively dirty, and apart from the bed, the only other furniture was a small writing desk that sat in the corner of the room, two chairs that were carved crudely out of rotting driftwood, and, surprisingly, a miniature bookshelf, complete with several books. All of which, though, seemed to be unreadable due to the wet pages and smeared ink. Will had left the two incredulous companions with words of wisdom:

"This is the only other cabin, aside from mine, that has a working lock. _Be sure to use it._ Trust me, you do not want Jimmy Legs or Clanker barging in your cabin in the middle of the night yelling some incomprehensible gibberish about our sailing coordinates."  
'Listen," Jack said, shaking himself out of his thoughts, "You'll be much more comfortable on the bed." He made a bowing gesture towards it. "So, by all means, mate, take it." Ichabod shook his head.

"That 'bed' looks as if it has been thrown in the ocean and hauled out one too many times. I am _not_ going to sleep on it." Jack was silent for a few seconds, then slowly, an idea started to form. Ichabod saw Jack's mischievous smile, and left a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I have a way we can settle this," the pirate said finally. "What say we play a little game, eh?"

"What kind of game?" Ichabod asked nervously.

"One tha' involves a relatively painless process that you might or might not have heard of. It's called 'Deception,' or more commonly, 'Liars Dice.'"

"_What_?"

"Apparently _not_, then. Just follow me out on deck, and you'll find out. It's quite a fun game, really. Except for when you're betting your soul," he added as an afterthought, "tha' could get rather complicated." Ichabod paled at the thought.

"Y-your soul?" Before Jack could reply, the door to the cabin flew open. In the entryway stood Maccus, his sharp fangs glinting as he grinned menacingly. The constable turned, if possible, even paler.

"The Captain wants to be seein' ye now," he hissed, the crab legs that sprouted from his back writhing in amusement. Jack raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with the display.

"Well, if _Captain _Turner wants to see us, we'd better not keep him waiting," he said sarcastically, walking towards the door. Ichabod followed him hesitantly, still looking very much like he would rather faint. Maccus grabbed Jack by arm as he passed, and pulled him back.

"Under the captaincy of Turner, we were ordered not to harm ye. But make no mistake, Sparra'—given the off chance that we find you alone, ye'd not find yerself enjoyin' such nice…hospitality," he growled, digging his claws into Jack's shoulder. The pirate yawned, looking uninterested.

"You know, for all the time tha' you lot spend out of the sea, you'd think tha' you'd at least smell a little less fishy," he commented lightly. Maccus bristled, and shoved Jack away from him, glaring angrily at Ichabod as he skirted past.

--

"The East India Trading Company?"

"Nasty company full of stuck up men who all wear periwigs to make themselves feel more important," Jack answered, fingering his emerald ring. "Which is backed up by the fact tha' they most likely patrol half of the ocean."

"And it seems as if we've entered the half they're patrolling," Will commented. "I heard a report earlier from Koleniko that one of their galleons has been spotted on the horizon. They might or might not be tracking us, but either way, we must be on our guard." Will's cabin was quite for a moment.

'Is tha'…all you called us in for?" Jack asked. Will looked uncomfortable.

"Well, not exactly…" he sighed. "With the appearance of Beckett's ship, my plans have been somewhat altered. Normally, one ship wouldn't have been a problem for the _Dutchman_, but the East India Company has a tenancy to make a fleet appear out of no where, so I'd rather like to avoid that." Silence. "So," he continued, disconcerted, "I'd like, with your consent, to submerge." Jack closed his eyes for a moment, and let out a sigh.

"Tha's all very fine, but we're not goin' to grow gills any time soon, are we?" Will shook his head.

"There is a large room below deck that will not fill up with water once we submerge. If you agree to let me proceed with this plan, you both would move down into the room and remain there until we resurface. And before you mention it, I'll have some crew members bring down enough provisions to last while you're down there." Ichabod and Jack exchanged glances. Jack shrugged.

"I s'pose it doesn't bother me."

"Nor me," the constable added. Will smiled gratefully.

"…Great!"

--

"It's bloody well not great!" Jack growled, pacing the interior of the room. Ichabod was sitting casually in a chair that was near a desk in the corner of the room.

"If it bothers you so much, then why did you agree to this?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"Because bloody William is so stubborn and headstrong, that it wouldn't have mattered either way."

"I personally like this better than being up on the deck. At least those crew members can't get to us down here. I shudder to think of what it would be like if they found a way—" Suddenly, Maccus, and several other crew members that Ichabod did not recognize, materialized through the walls of the _Dutchman_, grinning. "—inside…" the constable finished faintly. Jack stiffened, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"You were saying?" He muttered. Unlike Ichabod, Jack _did_ recognize all of the _Dutchman's_ crew members, and he was not in the least bit happy to see any of them. The pirate forced a smile on his face. "Fishies! What a pleasant surprise to see you in here!" He called out with false cheerfulness, fingering the hilt of his cutlass. Jimmy Legs, Will's Bosun, gnashed his fangs together. Jimmy Legs resembled a cross between a piranha and a mass of coral, and was infamous for his floggings, cleaving flesh from bone with every swing of his cat o' nine tails whip.

"I've waited for this day for too long! You've been a hindrance to the whole crew, and I'm thinkin' it's time to trim the wings of a Sparrow, so to speak," Jimmy Legs growled. Jack's dark brown eyes flickered, but his face remained impassive.

"Are you now? And just how would you go about doin' tha', I wonder?" The bosun drew his unusually thick cutlass.

"T'would be easy enough, I can assure you." In the corner of the room, Ichabod sat up straight, his eyes narrowing. He gripped his flintlock pistol.

"Ah, but you forgot one _very_ important thing mate," Jack said, holding up a finger. Jimmy Legs eyed him in confusion.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." The Bosun snarled angrily, and raised his cutlass over Jack's head. In a split second, Ichabod had snatched his pistol out of his holster, brought the gun up to bear, and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck Jimmy Legs on his hand, and he let out a startled yelp, dropping his cutlass. The five other crew members, including Maccus, stared incredulously at the constable. No one had ever attacked one of the _Dutchman's_ crew members willingly before, much less the fearsome Bosun! Jimmy Legs picked up his fallen cutlass, his eyes flashing furiously.

"Why, you little whelp, I'll—"

"Enough!" Maccus interrupted. "If the captain finds out what we've been up to, he'll have our hides!" The first mate glanced at Ichabod, regarding him coolly. The constable remained standing, his hand shaking slightly. "Ye'd best watch yer step, mate. The Bosun isn't as forgivin' as most of us. He always holds a grudge." Jack grinned—he could tell that they were impressed against their will. With a last glance at Ichabod, the crew members turned around, and seemed to sink into the walls of the Dutchman, until none of them remained in the room. The pirate let out a slow breath, and the constable sat down, feeling as if his legs would no longer support him.

"Thanks…for, you know…" Jack stated awkwardly. Ichabod nodded, not trusting himself to speak. There was a long, drawn out silence, which Ichabod broke by finally saying;

"So…how exactly do you play Deception?"

--

**A/N:** Yes, and update! Oh man, I saw At World's End on Thursday at 8:00—it was probably one of the most amazing movies _ever_! The emotion, the clever plot, the Jack Sparrow…-reminisces- Anywho, please read and review!! All characters are © their respected creators.


	12. Over the River & Through the Rainforest?

**Chapter 12: Over the river and through the…rainforest?**

"How much longer do you think it'll take to reach…?"

"The Pantano River? I've no idea," Jack answered, digging the blade of his knife into the table disinterestedly. Around an hour after Maccus and his crew had left the room, Ichabod had fully mastered the concept of Deception, and had won over twenty games consecutively. Jack, who was rather put out at losing the traditional seafaring game for the first time, gave up, and retreated to the corner of the room. Ichabod set down the Deception cup he'd been examining, and looked up.

"I meant, how long will it take to reach…Tia Dalma, is it?"

"Same thing. She lives at the North most point on the Pantano River," Jack stated flatly.

"Oh." The room was quiet, save for the muted mutterings of the crew. Ichabod was just contemplating on whether or not he should ask another question, when the _Dutchman_ suddenly lurched upwards, making him topple backwards over his chair. He quickly scrambled to his feet, and noticed that Jack had managed to remain upright, and was chuckling to himself. Ichabod glared at him, feeling more than a little disgruntled.

"What was that?" He asked, annoyed at the amused look on the pirate's face.

"I believe _that_ was the _Dutchman_ surfacin', which probably means we've arrived." Jack walked over to the door, yanked it open, and ran straight into Will.

"Jack?"

"Captain Eunuch!" Jack exclaimed cheerfully, ignoring the frown that had formed on the Captain's face. Will brushed off the insult.

"We've arrived outside the mouth of the river. I'd like to take as few people up to Tia's shack as possible, so I've arrange for two boats to be taken ashore. The first will hold Ichabod and yourself, while the second will hold Maccus and I. I thought it safest to have Maccus in my boat, considering the fact that he seems to dislike both of you."

"You thought correct," Jack muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Meet me up on deck in a few minutes—I'm not fond of this island, as you might recall," Will said, glancing at Jack, who grimaced. The time spent on the nearby Isla De Pelegustos was not something that he wished to re-live.

--

Once on the boats, Jack ordered Ichabod to start rowing, shoved his hat over his eyes, and promptly leaned against the side, already trying to fall asleep.

"Excuse me, but why exactly am _I_ doing the all work?" Ichabod queried, slightly irritated.

"_You_ need the experience and the exercise. _I_, however, am a veteran of rowin' boats, so there is no need for me to waste precious energy tha' I should be savin' for later," Jack said, without looking up. The constable stared at him in disgust, then grabbed the oars, placing both in the water on either side of him.

"I'm not even sure where I'm supposed to be rowing." The pirate glanced over at Will and Maccus, who were rowing in their separate boat, and flicked a hand in their general direction.

"Just follow Captain Eunuch and his barnacled friend. _Tha'_ much you can handle, I assume?" Ichabod didn't answer, but pulled the wooden oars backwards, and started rowing in the general direction of Will's boat.

--

Half an hour into the excursion, the river narrowed out, and the thick trees towered over the water, blocking out most of the sunlight. Ichabod was grateful for the shade, since it was a nice reprieve from the scorching Caribbean sun. But as he took in more of his surroundings, he found the setting to be rather foreboding, and hoped that he had only imagined the shadowy figures lurking within the rainforest. Unfortunately, as it seemed since he had arrived, luck was not on his side.

"Erm, Jack…? Who are they?" The constable asked nervously, pointing towards the human-like figures glaring at the passing boats through the foliage. Jack sat up quickly, pushed his hat farther up his head so that it wasn't covering his eyes, and peered into the ever-thickening cluster of trees.

"Oh, them? They're just Tia Dalma's watchmen. They're not a threat to us….I think."

"Well, that's quite the comforting thought," Ichabod muttered sarcastically. Suddenly, what little light that had been present disappeared, and the rainforest around them was shrouded in darkness. Ichabod's heart quickened, and he gripped the oars as his eyes tried, and failed, to adjust to the darkness.

"Jack?"

"Aye?"

"…Please tell me that was just a leaf that brushed past my face."

"Actually, there are several things tha' it could've been," Jack answered, after a few seconds of thinking it over. Ichabod gulped.

"Such as…?"

"Well, seein' as were in a rainforest, it's safe to assume tha' it could've been a leaf, unlikely, a bird, a snake, or a very large spider." There was no answer, only a thump that made the boat dip forwards.

"Mate?" Silence. "Ichabod?" Still nothing. "He passed out, didn't he," Jack stated to himself. The silence that greeted him was more than enough of an answer. The pirate sighed. "Now I have to do the bloody rowin' all by meself," he muttered crossly, picking up the oars, and setting them in the water. He had barely pulled them back twice, sending the boat gliding through the water, when he saw a faint outline of lights ahead of him.

"Jack!" The whispered call broke through the unnerving silence.

"Wait a minute!" He hissed back, casting wary glances around him. As he rounded the corner, Tia's shack came into view, and he spotted Will and Maccus on the porch. Once he had docked, he stepped off of the boat, and bowed mockingly to Will.

"You called, _Captain _Turner?" Will ignored the taunt.

"Last time we came here when we were looking for Jones's chest, Tia demanded payment, and several times when I have come to visit her without payment, she's kicked me out. I didn't bring payment this time!" Jack waved a dismissive hand.

"No worries, mate. She'll agree to help us with or without payment." The Dutchman's captain looked skeptical, then seemed to notice that Ichabod wasn't with them.

"Where's your friend?"  
"Acquaintance," Jack corrected, then indicated the boat. "He's in there."

"…Don't you think you should bring him over here?" Will asked pointedly, after a long pause. Jack rolled his eyes and walked over to the boat, nudging the still unconscious Ichabod with his boot.

"Oi, mate, wake up!" The constable stirred, then bolted straight up. Upon seeing that it was just Jack, he sighed, and stood up.

"Have we arrived, then?" He asked tiredly, as if this was routine. The pirate felt rather bad that he had caused him to faint, but how was he to know that Ichabod would react that way?

"Aye," he answered, "we have." He indicated Will and Maccus.

"Shall we head inside, then?" Ichabod nodded, and they all made their way over to the ladder. Just as Jack grabbed the side of the wooden ladder, Will cleared his throat.

"I'm still not comfortable about not brining payment. You've never seen her when she gets that angry before." The flickering fire reflected in Jack's dark eyes, and as Will glanced at him, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

"As a matter of fact, I have," he said quietly. Ichabod and Maccus exchanged confused glances, their dislike of each other momentarily forgotten. The pirate looked up, and his whole demeanor changed. "But in any case," he said cheerfully," you don't need to worry—after all, _I'm Captain Jack Sparrow_!"

--

"What d'you mean, no?" Jack crossed the room in four slightly exaggerated swaggering steps.

"Tia, love, you can do ol' Jack one little favor, can't you?" He asked, getting slightly desperate. Tia drew herself up, and stared Jack in the eyes, power seeming to radiate from her. Jack, Will, and Ichabod tensed, and even Maccus seemed intimidated. The voodoo priestess let out a sigh, then crossed over to her table.

"I'll tell ye what, Jack Sparra'—I will help ye wid your desires if you will bring to me a certain item of value."

"Done!" Jack said triumphantly, without thinking of the consequences. Will shot him a glare, and the pirate captain grinned sheepishly. He bit his lip nervously, then turned back to Tia.

"What is it, exactly, that you would like us to retrieve?" Tia gave a sly grin, her black gums startling the constable.

"My pendant, that my sweet lova' gave me, has been stolen. I want ye to go and get it back for me. Den, I will help ye wid yer request."

"Agreed," Jack stated, shaking Tia's hand. He looked questioningly at the three in the back. Will nodded his consent.

"Agreed," Ichabod said, as Maccus also nodded. Jack flashed Tia a gold-toothed grin.

"Just tell us the predicted location of your pendant, and we shall be on our way!" He exclaimed with a smile.

"I have reason to believe dat my pendant is on a nearby island dat you two," she pointed to Will and Jack, "know very well." The two captains stiffened. "It is called, the Isla De Pelegustos."

--

**A/N:** Ha, ha, sorry I haven't updated in a while. School has been brutal…And yes, I saw Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End again…for the fifth time. It is still THE most amazing movie I've seen in my life. Anyways, this chapter was a killer to write. I kept putting it off. Finally, last night, I had some extra time, so I sat down and forced myself to start on it. I only just finished it today. So…please **read and review!** Thanks to all of my reviewers—I love you guys:D


	13. The Pelegustos

**Chapter 13: The Pelegustos**

"Next time you agree to find something for Tia Dalma, I'd rather appreciate it if you'd actually consider what it is your getting us into _before _you decide to say anything," Ichabod remarked miserably, staring out of the circular bone cage.

Shortly after they'd arrived on the Isla De Pelegustos, the tribe, after which the island was named, took it upon themselves to welcome the four of them to their home. This meant getting painfully shot with darts, (that had the capacity to render a grown man, fish or otherwise, unconscious for the better part of an hour) waking up to find themselves in an unknown village surrounded by more tribesmen, and being unceremoniously shoved into a circular cage made from the bones of humans. A cage that was hanging a few _thousand feet_ above solid ground.

Jack grinned sheepishly at the trio, as both Will and Maccus nodded their heads in agreement.

"Look at it this way," he pointed out, "at least we haven't added to the design of these cages yet." Will rolled his eyes.

"And I suppose being stuck waiting in the bone cage as the Pelegustos prepare to roast us qualifies as something good? And in any case," he continued, "I thought that you were a supposedly considered a 'God' among the Pelegustos." Jack winced at the memory.

"Well, it's rather obvious tha' the manner in which I left wasn't the most…appreciated by the tribe."

"Oh, and I wonder what caused them to feel that way," Will muttered sarcastically. "Was it _before_ or _after_ you threw the fruit at them, then proceeded to run screaming towards the _Pearl_?"

Jack remained silent, and it was in this silence, that Ichabod was struck with an idea. "You have had interactions with this particular tribe before, then?" He queried. Both pirate captains nodded their heads in unison. "Well, then how did you escape last time?" Jack and Will exchanged glances.

--

"Hold onto the cage, and when I say 'go,' push off of the cliffside as hard as you can," Will administered to the three sitting in front of him. Jack and Maccus nodded their heads to show that they understood, but Ichabod, on the other hand, was gripping the sides of the cage tightly, his face pale.

"A-are you absolutely certain that this is the _only_ way we can escape?" He stammered, determinedly looking anywhere but the ground, which seemed even further below them than before.

"If you have any alternatives, then by all means, share," Will said, with a slight hint of impatience. The constable remained silent. "Alright then; on the count of three, be ready to push. One…" The four of them bended their knees, grabbing at the rocks jutting out of the cliff. "…Two…" Ichabod braced himself, silently wishing that he was anywhere but here. "…Three! Push!" The bone cage shot forwards like a bullet, the world rushing past them in a blur of bright colors. Then quite suddenly, the cliff on the opposite side was right in front of them. Instinctively, the four reached out and tried to snatch a particularly thick vine, and to their surprise, each of them succeeded. "Hold tight to the vine," Will instructed, "and start the climb. We've got quite a ways to go until we reach the top." Unfortunately, this was easier said than done. Twice, Ichabod and Maccus lost hold of the vine, and desperately scrabbled to the far sides of the cage, in hopes of grabbing another section.

After what seemed like hours, they finally arrived at the top of the cliff, exhausted but elated, and had wasted no time in breaking their way out of the cage.

"I mean no disrespect, Captain Turner, but that was undoubtedly the maddest plan that ye have ever come up with," Maccus panted, kneeling on the ground.

"Sometimes madness can border on brilliance, and vice versa. This might be considered as one of those times," Ichabod retorted, rubbing his aching arms. Will's mouth twitched upwards in a smile and Jack beamed happily.

"I always knew you were smart, mate!" He exclaimed. Ichabod shrugged, trying to act indifferent, but already felt his face turning red. Will ran his hand through his hair.

"We still need a plan." Jack looked bewildered.

"For _what_, might I ask?" Will opened his mouth to answer, but the constable beat him to it.

"We still need to find Tia's locket so that we may return it to her," he reminded the pirate sharply.

"Oh. Right. So what's the plan, then?"

--

"Bloody well better be here, otherwise there'll be a few choice words that I'm goin' to say to Turner," Jack mumbled angrily. Will had suggested that Jack should be the one to sneak into the Pelegustos camp, and see whether or not the locket was there. He had, of course, objected right away, pointing out that he would be the most easily recognized. Then bloody William had argued that Jack knew this island better than the rest of them, and in theory, would be the most likely person to be able to steal the locket successfully, and return unharmed.

He pushed his way through the thick foliage, grinning slightly when he recalled Ichabod's words. "_I'd agree with Will; you are the most likely person to be able to obtain the locket. And after all, you_ are _Captain Jack Sparrow; something you've been stressing this entire time._" Yes, he was Captain Jack Sparrow. And did that help in the slightest? Absolutely not. In fact, it usually got him into even deeper trouble, but at this point, there was little he could do besides try and follow the plan. He crouched down and peered through a large fern plant, making a face as he realized exactly how close he was to the camp. Several of the tribesmen and women were conversing happily amongst themselves, while the rest of them gathered large chunks of wood from the surrounding trees. _No doubt to build their little bonfire for their nice evening meal_,he thought sardonically. Jack continued walking as quietly as he could, glancing warily about every few seconds. Surprisingly, the Pelegustos tribe had a very organized system of hierarchy, which meant that all of the important items that they'd gathered through trading or by force, was in the largest hut. And so, naturally, the plan involved sneaking into said hut, retrieving Tia's locket, and escaping the camp before any of the Pelegustos noticed.

After much searching, and quite a few tense moments, he had successfully located the hut, and had snuck inside without being noticed. He glanced around the small quarters, until a familiar heart-shaped object jumped out at him…

"Much more trouble than the bloody thing is worth," he muttered crossly, snatching Tia's locket out from underneath a pile of East India Company spices, and hurriedly putting it around his neck. Feeling much more confident now that he'd found the locket, he turned to leave the hut, only to find himself face to face with what looked to be the entire Pelegustos tribe.

"Oh bugger."

--

"How long can it possibly take for Sparra' to find and steal a single locket?" Maccus growled impatiently, digging his clawed hand into the trunk of a palm tree. Will shrugged indifferently.

"I'm sure he has a good reason for taking so long," he replied, not entirely believing those words himself. Ichabod sat on the ground, leaning against the trunk of a tree, his black frock coat thrown off to the side. He had never realized just how _hot _the Caribbean was until now. He regarded Will's words carefully. If Jack was as eager to return to his own time as Ichabod was, then it would make sense for him to actually make a point of _hurrying_ back—especially since the inhabitants of this island would be more than happy to display more of their "hospitality." What if something had gone wrong? He was just about to voice his concern to Will, when from behind them, they heard a familiar voice shout:

"RUN!" Ichabod, Will, and Maccus jumped up, and whipped their heads around, just in time to see Jack crashing through the foliage, his arms waving about in a strange manner. "No, not good! Run! Now! Fast!" He yelled, skidding to a stop in front of them. The three eyed him in confusion.

"Jack, what—?" Will started, but the pirate interrupted him.

"We need to get back to the _Dutchman_! Now!" He was gesticulating rather wildly, and kept glancing over their shoulders. "_Quickly_!" He stressed, as they still stood in the same spot, showing no signs of moving.

"Not until you tell us what's going on," Will said firmly, crossing his arms across his chest. Jack looked bewildered.

"Nothin' is happenin'! I decided to run all the way back here and shout just for fun!" He snapped sarcastically. "Now hurry up and _move_!" Will narrowed his eyes. "Oh for the bloody love of—the Pelegustos are followin' me! The whole tribe!" The three tensed at Jack's words. "Yes, I found the locket!" He added, as Ichabod opened his mouth. "We need to get go—" His words were cut short as the sound of people crashing through the shrubbery and hollering reached their ears. "Hurry!" Jack growled, then started running in the opposite direction of the noise. The group needed no further persuasion. Ichabod grabbed his coat and flung it over his shoulder, sprinting hard in order to catch up with Jack. Will and Maccus were but feet behind them, and had drawn their cutlasses as a precaution. The constable glanced back over his shoulder, only to see a mass of tribesmen break through a thick cluster of enormous ferns, gripping wicked looking spears. One of the tribesmen, he noticed, was holding his spear like a javelin, and was aiming at Will's back. In seconds, Ichabod had pulled out his pistol, cocked it, and was in the process of aiming, when he heard Will shout:

"Watch out!" Frantically, he turned around and slid to a stop, mere inches away from a steep cliff, noting the ocean waves pounding against its side. Jack, however, was not so lucky. He had not heard Will's warning, and had continued running, slamming straight into the unsuspecting constable. The two lurched forwards, desperately trying to regain their balance, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, a split second later, both Jack and Ichabod tumbled off of the cliff and out of sight.

--

**A/N: **Wow, it's been over a month since I've last updated this. I am _so_ sorry! ;—; I foolishly thought that when summer came around, I would be free to write. But it turns out that my vacation has been almost as busy as my previous school year. I was finally able to finish the last of this chapter a few minutes ago, and I feel terrible for making all of you wait so long…**Please read and review**! I would greatly appreciate it!


	14. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

**Chapter 14: Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire**

Ichabod's mind had barely even begun to register that fact that he was falling, when he abruptly hit the water. Falling from that height and hitting the ocean, he decided, was a lot like running into to a solid brick wall. The water was cold; a lot colder than he expected it to be, and for a moment, he started to panic, not knowing which way was up. Then, as logic quickly took hold of his mind, he opened his eyes and despite the fact that the salty Caribbean water stung greatly, glanced around. What greeted him was a multitude of bubbles swirling around his face, as well as one very _large_ snake. The reptile in question started to swim quickly towards him, and had he not been underwater, he would've yelped in fright. As it was, the snake only gave him more incentive to find the surface. Which, seconds later, he did, gasping for breath as he tried desperately to stay afloat. As luck would have it, he was not far from shore, and a few hurried strokes of his arms later, he found himself flopped onto the sand, drained of all energy. "That's definitely not something I'd want to repeat again," he muttered to himself.

"I'd have to agree with you there, mate," came a voice off to his left. Ichabod glanced up and was surprised to see Jack sitting on the sand, emptying water out of his boots.

"Wha—how did you swim to shore so quickly?" Ichabod asked weakly, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He noted that the pirate wasn't even breathing hard, which only served to confuse him further. Jack smiled, his gold teeth glinting brightly in the sunlight.

"Mate," he drawled, "I thought you knew by now." Ichabod raised an eyebrow. "I'm _Captain Jack Sparrow_." The young constable frowned in response to the pirate's comment.

"That's getting quite old..."

"Regardless, it works for me and tha' is all that matters." Despite the situation they were in, Ichabod found himself grinning. He was finding Jack to be almost as stubborn as himself. The young constable glanced around, taking in their surroundings. The azure water of the Caribbean ocean lapped lazily at the white sand of the beach, and the wind began to blow gently, already drying Ichabod's soaked clothes. It was a scene of complete serenity, which was, of course, shattered by a loud burp from Jack. The constable sighed and shook his head, turning around so that he was facing the cliffs behind him.

It turned out that they hadn't strayed too far from where they had fallen, though the rocky cliff face presented a very significant problem.

"How are we going to find Will and Maccus?" Ichabod asked, after a few moments of silence. Jack sighed theatrically.

"Always one to get to the heart of the matter," he said in mock exasperation.

"I'm just trying to be realistic…" The pirate shook his head, drawing inscrutable shapes into the sand with his finger.

"No, you're jus' bein' plain obnoxious." The constable glared at him, crossing his arms. "Fine!" Jack said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "I'll tell you how we're goin' to find Captain Eunuch and his oversized fish of a crew member." He stood up, brushing the sand from his shirt. Ichabod began to follow his lead, then stopped, glancing around himself anxiously. "What now?" Jack said, throwing his arms up in the air as the young constable began sifting through the sand.

"My coat…it's gone!"

"Well, of course it's gone! Did you really expect it to swim with you to shore? And it's not like you needed it." Jack pointed out. "You're in the bloody _Caribbean_, mate. The places here only have one season, and tha's summer." Ichabod stared dejectedly at the ground. _What else can go wrong?_ He thought to himself. Instead, he said half-heartedly:

"I suppose so…"

"Tha's the spirit, mate!" Jack exclaimed cheerfully. "Now, follow me: we've got a Eunuch to find." And with that said, he turned around and started walking in the opposite direction from where the constable was sitting.

"Where are you going?" Ichabod called out after him, hurrying to catch up with the pirate's long, albeit swaggering, strides.

"I already told you," Jack said over his shoulder.

"Yes, but that doesn't explain _how _we're going to find him," Ichabod retorted, feeling slightly frustrated at Jack's lack of helpfulness. The pirate huffed dramatically.

"We're goin' to keep walkin' along the beach 'till we find the _Flyin' Dutchman_. If we don't find the _Dutchman_—unlikely—then the _Dutchman_ will find us." Ichabod stopped in his tracks.

"Your plan is just to keep walking?" He asked incredulously.

"Aye!" Jack answered, amusement plain in his voice. _He can't be serious…_the constable thought to himself.

"What if neither action occurs? What if we don't find the ship and the ship can't find us?"

"Then we'll deal with tha' when it happens."

"…Unbelievable," Ichabod muttered, picking up his pace.

--

It was fortunate, Ichabod thought, that his white cotton shirt was so thin. The Caribbean sun was relentlessly scorching the land, and its inhabitants, below it. That, coupled with the humidity, served to make an unpleasant combination. The young constable found solace in the fact that he wasn't wearing as many layers of clothing as Jack. But the heat seemed to have no effect on the pirate. Indeed, he was still swaggering briskly down the length of the beach. Ichabod grimaced as he tripped over yet another branch that had washed ashore.

He was looking forward to returning to his own time period; where the climate was cooler, and the places were familiar. He grinned at the thought of Katrina's and young Masbath's reaction when he relayed his adventures to them—Ichabod's happiness was suddenly choked off as the events of that night came crashing down on him. He cursed himself for his stupidity. Masbath was dead, Katrina was probably beside herself with worry—and it was his fault entirely.

"Mate?" Jack's voice brought Ichabod out of his sullen thoughts. "Are you alright?" He glanced up and discovered that he had stopped walking. The pirate was staring at him, looking slightly concerned. The young constable sighed.

"I just feel as though it's my fault, and that even if I am able to get back to my own time, it won't really solve anything. In fact, it might just make the situation worse."

"What's your fault?" Jack asked, confused. Ichabod shook his head.

"The death of someone very close to me. I know that it's _my_ fault he's g—" The rest of his reply was drowned out in the thunderous explosion of water a couple hundred yards off-shore. Both men quickly turned towards the source of the noise. Out of the ocean rose the _Flying Dutchman_, her timber creaking loudly, as if she was glad to be back on the surface. Jack beamed happily.  
"I knew the whelp wouldn't let us down!" He ran towards the water, waving his arms about in a wild manner.

"Thanks for listening, Jack," Ichabod muttered sarcastically.

--

It took the better part of an hour for Will to paddle to shore in a rowboat, and for Jack to explain what had happened to them. Which, as the captain of the _Dutchman_ had commented, didn't seem like much.

"What happened to the Pelegustos?" Ichabod asked, glancing around nervously.

"Maccus and I happened to make it to the _Dutchman_ before they had a chance to catch up with us. They took one look at her and fled." Will replied, grinning.

"The Pelegustos never did tha' when they saw the _Pearl_…" Jack said, looking slightly put out. Will was about to reply, when he suddenly squinted, a frown quickly settling on his face.

"What is _that_?" He asked, pointing his finger behind the pirate. Ichabod and Jack turned around.

An odd-looking figure on horseback was galloping down the beach, a sword in its hand, headed directly towards them. Ichabod paled visibly when he realized what was off about the figure: it had no head. Jack, who had noticed the young constable's reaction, put two and two together, his eyes widening slightly in comprehension.

"It's the Horseman," Ichabod whispered faintly. "The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow."

--

**A/N:** I wasn't dead or dying. I swear. I am SO sorry that this took so long. There's really no excuse. You guys don't deserve to be kept waiting as long as you did.

So, yes, we finally get to see the Horseman in action! (Well, at least we do in the next chapter.) I know; I must stop putting cliff-hangers in the story. But they're just so fun! XD

Anywho, **please read and review**! I definitely want to hear your thoughts, since this chapter was harder for me to write than the previous ones. (Writer's block death for fanfictions.)

The next chapter will be longer. I promise.


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